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This summer, the first stop for many U.K. partiers will be a special tent where, without fear of arrest, they can get their illegal drugs tested for potency and makeup to prevent overdoses.

There's a because-we-can quality to the band's overstuffed, 82-minute second album, as Foxygen delights in letting its loosest threads unravel.

Fatalism and hope, realism and romance from the acidic, adrenalized Portland punk trio.

Like a big, friendly sheepdog that just can't help itself, the Virginia roots-rock group's music bounds right up to you and licks your face. This is a band with little use for muted gestures.

It's part of the government's strategy to control the flow of aid to conflict zones — and prevent rebel forces from receiving life-saving supplies.

The nuanced vibe of a city can't be captured by an aerial "spider camera" that crawls far above everyone's heads.

Be prepared to be swept up by Monroe's subtle and breathtaking Sparrow, a record fluent in the communal languages of folk, country, gospel and pop.

Weird and kind of wonderful, Dylan sings Sinatra.

After stints in Bikini Kill and Le Tigre, Kathleen Hanna still finds new ways to rage and inspire. On her new album at the helm of The Julie Ruin, she transforms anger into a source of power and fun.

The SoCal punk band's Smiths obsession makes for a confident, focused, 19-minute record that still gleefully indulges in pick scrapes and fast three-chord songs.